My Weapon's Edge
by Twisted-Web-Tales
Summary: Spain has his Axe, France has his Sword. When England revives the traditional Weapons of his young Colonies, he is determined not to let them have such savage things. But of course it doesn't go to plan and now someone is going to get their eye poked out!
1. Chapter 1

No good was going to come of this.

It was no doubt a horrible disaster waiting to happen. A disaster ending with a some kind of missing limb or poked out eye.

Some kind of maiming was inevitable and first aid would indeed be needed.

There would be tears, and it was all that bloody Yank's fault.

It had all started when that idiot arrived at England's front door step one pleasant sunny Saturday morning carrying a very long, heavy looking package addressed to the Brit.

"Why the bloody hell do you have one of my packages!?" Arthur inquired firmly as the Yankee handed over the large box with ease, shrugging. England struggled briefly with its weight but was quick to straighten up ad continue to stare down (up at) the other man at his front doorway with distain.

"I ran into your mailman on the way here dude- he was struggling with this so I helped him out...why are you mad...?"

England puffed out his cheeks with a scoff. Mad!?

"I'm not mad!" The Brit was quick to cut in sharply, face becoming flushed red as he juggled the large crate as if to make it look smaller and not so noticeable (impossible, it was huge.), his eyes flicking around as if someone might be watching. Alfred's blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Something weird was going on and as he followed Arthur into his large, old house, shutting the door behind him- he was going to find out!

...

"So...what's in the long box?" The tall American asked as he hovered behind his big brother, watching from over his shoulder as England looked around his busy study for a place to stash the cargo. Oh, this defiantly smelt fishy!

"What long box?" The blond questioned distantly, not really paying attention to his little brother as he scanned the large room. Under the desk? No too big. Atop the filing cabinet? No too obvious.

"That long box! The one you're holding in your hands right now dude!" America pointed at the brown wooden rectangle in question. This seemed to snap the Englishman to attention.

"Oh...it's ah...it's nothing." Arthur paused mid search to smile innocently at the confused Nation before placing the heavy package down onto his large desk so he could make some spare space in his storage cupboard.

"What's 'nothing'?"

Both Nations jumped slightly in surprise, spinning around quickly to both look at their little eavesdropper, England promptly scooting to the side to stand in front of the mysterious crate. New Zealand stood in the old hallway, leaning on the study doorframe, his face the picture of curious with his inquisitive smirk and raised eyebrows.

America gained. "Hey Zea! What's going on!" He greeted, striding forward to place a large pale hand on the brunettes curly head affectionately.

"Hey America, not much bro- what's going on here?" He asked, stepping past the Yank and into the room, his curious green eyes trained on his Dad. Who looked red faced and extremely uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Guilt perhaps? Strange.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out!" Alfred chimed in, falling into place next to the 16 year old Kiwi to join in on his stare. England seemed to squirm under their combined gaze before he set his jaw firmly, squaring his shoulders.

"Nothing is going on!" Arthur quipped, the tips of his pale ears becoming red. "And if there _was '_ something _'_ going on, which there isn't, I would hardly see how it could possibly be of any concern to you- both _of you!"_ The Brit puffed out his chest like an offended chicken, planting his hands firmly onto his slim hips as if to make a point.

New Zealand fought hard not to roll his eyes and stay respectful- the perfected little son. America on the other hand scoffed loudly, waving a hand in the direction of the older Nation as if to brush his statement away.

"Ohhhh come _on_ Iggy, share the big secret already, we aren't gonna judge you!" He coaxed before he shrugged causally. "Unless it's some kind of weird sex thing...is it? Or is it illegal!? Oh my gosh, is it a human head!? You totally have some poor person's head in that box!" His gloved hand flew up to his mouth in utter horror as a very visible vain made itself quite noticeable on the shorter blond's forehead.

Idiot.

Arthur turned and swiftly picked up the the long box, rolling his eyes. "Oh do shut up, you're being absolutely ridiculous! Oh course I don't have a head in here! Now, will you both please just lea-

As England turned to carry the large crate away swiftly, a large white sticker plastered on it's side caught the youngest Colony's attention quickly. New Zealand narrowed his eyes to read the messy black penmanship it contained before it was gone from his sight forever.

Aus...

Austr..

Austria?

No wait! He knew that word anywhere, messy handwriting or not!

"Wait! That sticker says its imported from...Australia!" The Kiwi announced loudly, causing the Englishman to freeze mid stride to freedom, his eyes wide like a spooked animal. Zea pointed at the box accusingly, walking up to read more of that messy label with a cocked head sidewards. "And New Zealand! What the hell!?" He looked up at his dad with a scowl, curiosity burning in his green eyes. Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly, ignoring Alfred as the America's hands flew to his mouth once again in surprise.

" _Imported_ human heads!?...dude..." He whispered in disgust, causing the older nation to sigh in annoyance.

"Oh for goodness sake...they are not human heads America! They're weapons!"

Silence settled around the room at his abrupt outburst.

Oops.

Red faced, England clamped his lips shut tightly, embarrassment washing over him at his own bloody big mouth and temper.

"...weapons?" The short brunette asked, blinking in the sudden information, staring up at his dad with a now an indescribable amount of burning curiosity and desire. Arthur gave a huge sign of defeat and walked back over to his large wooden desk, placing the box down carefully. There would be no stopping them now, they would find their way into this box in no time at all, he may as well just show them. Honestly, today must be his unlucky day.

"I was only just informed that I would be receiving such items." The Brit explained slowly. "I didn't see the point of getting them at all, it's not like you need or will use them. I mean, you and Jett are both barely out of Early Colony stage!"

The two younger males shuffled in closer as they watched England pull out his ornate letter opener from his desk draw and slice away the tape that sealed the cargo together. With the box now wide open they watched as handfuls of protective paper straw were scooped out gently and placed onto the desk surface for later use.

"This is so awesome!" America jittered excitedly from behind the Kiwi as they both leaned over to peer curiously into the exposed box.

"Hardly." England responded dryly, rolling his eyes and stepping back as both Nation and Colony gasped at its bizarre contents.

America plunged his hand in and pulled out a large, flat piece of solid wood; it was lavishly decorated in colourful dot like deigns and was bent at an angle.

"Hey it's one of these things!" He announced happily, holding the foreign object up high for all to see. He knew this thing, Australia had described it to him on many an occasion, a distant, happy smile always lighting up the young man's face at the distant memory. "It's a Rangazoom or something!"

"A Boomerang." England corrected, expression unimpressed. "And that is Australia's, one of a pair. The other is sharp and very dangerous so do be careful when sticking your hands into places they do not belong."

The American ignored the scolding and swung the wooden weapon around above his head as if fighting off fierce flying beasts with a childlike grin- complete with sound effects.

"Pew pew zeeeeeeeeeeewww!"

"Do be careful, don't throw it!" Britain chastised with puffed out cheeks, hands quickly coming up to cover above Zea's head as if to protect him from Alfred's stupidity.

"Relax dude! I got this!"

"Hardly!"

New Zealand rolled his eyes at the bickering two (adults, jeez!) before he plunged his own hand into the package, rummaging around the paper straw (carefully) until he found something solid and pulled it out. What he produced made him smile, his eyes became big and watery with bittersweet happiness as he pulled out the long, spear like weapon, hugging it to his chest.

Oh my god. Can it really be true?

New Zealand turned the long object over in his pale hands, inspecting it with love laden eyes; distant memories, long since forgotten stirred their way into his mind. The long wooden handle stood 5ft long, made of the sturdiest root of a Maire tree and lavishly decorated in wonderfully scary tribal carvings. At the weapons end sat a large, flat axe like stone- sharp and beautiful with many long feathers tied to its base. He sighed happily, he remembered when he had created this, carved it. When he was young and wild- free. When he had been known as Aotearoa, not William Kirkland.

The young teen was so engrossed with his old, since forgot weapon he didn't even notice the older Nations had stopped bickering and we're now staring at him curiously.

"What is it dude?" America asked, still holding the boomerang up high and out of England's grasping, tippy toed reach.

"William, are you ok lad?" Arthur too was staring at him, mid grab at Alfred's jacket in an attempt to climb up him and grab his son's weapon back.

"...Paiaka...it's my Paiaka..." The young Colony didn't look their way as he spoke, his voice low and filled with a sad kind of joy, his hands running over those weapon markings lovingly. "It's been so long...I-I...I've almost forgot..."

America smiled happily at the sight, his arm slacking enough to allow the Brit to snatch up the Boomerang.

"Every Nation...or Colony in your case, should have their traditional weapon by their side." The Yankee stated with a knowing grin as he walked forward to stand behind the shorter Kiwi, placing a fond hand on his small shoulder. "And a cool weapon it is dude, very scary looking...and sharp... You really know how to use that thing?"

England walked over to the crate and pulled out the second, well decorated Boomerang to join the first in his hands- the second was jagged down one side and extremely sharp to the touch- doubling as a knife to perform the most brutal of deaths'.

Savages. There was a reason he had wanted to hide these, this culture of theirs was a slippery slope. It could very well undo all his hard teaching efforts towards them.

"I used to be the best at it..." New Zealand replied lowly, shifting the weight of the long weapon between his hands to trail its forgotten feel. "Ahhh... it was great! Wearing nothing but my paint and my fur! I was only young but man, I felt unstoppable back then- it was like...like I was just...primal, content- deadly!" The Kiwi was grinning now, his eyes shining with absolute delight at the memories. Hunting his prey, stalking it before the surprise attack! Striking fear into his enemies hearts as he danced and sung their deaths to them...

How long had it been since he had even performed the Haka? Would he remember the words?

He had become a Colony, educated and domesticated by the great British Empire... What he wouldn't do just to practice with this Paiaka one more time...

Feel that wonderfully electric like rush of adrenaline pump through his veins.

"It's settled then!" America was clapping his hands together now, beaming down at the young Colony. "I want to see you use it! Let's go get Aus and have a fight!"

"What!" England cut in then, his face red with shock, his mouth spluttering to find the right words quickly. "A-absolutely not! No way in bloody hell!" He held onto the Boomerangs a little tighter, ignoring the sharp bite they gave into his soft flesh. "I shall not have you 'savaging' your way around my house! I wasn't even going to give you these! You have no use for them as my Colonies!"

"Dad...I-

"NO!"

"But...I ju-

BANG!

"I SAID NO WILLIAM!" Red faced the Brit slammed the Aussie weapons hard into the wooden crate, silencing any verbal retort that may have followed his mighty command. "Immortality or not you are COLONIES! You are children! You are English! You want to fight; then use a damn musket!"

With that he stomped his way out of his own study and retreated down the hall with heavy booted steps, both men said nothing as they listened to them get increasingly faint as they headed down the stairs and no doubt out the front door...

England was mad.

Both males were silent for a few seconds before New Zealand finally gave a sad, defeated sigh and began packing his Paiaka away into the crate.

"Wow, we really upset him!" America stated with a proud grin before he turned to the brunette, surprise gripping his features. "Whoa! Whoa dude what are you doing!?"

His big hand reached forward to grip the end of the spear, stopping the young Colony from putting it away.

"You heard him, I use a gun now- I'm putting these away..." Zea explained, a quiver in his voice as he tried to pull it away from the America's tight grip- it did not budge.

"Are you kidding me right now? England is gone dude. Let's play with this stuff!" He was grinning now, a shining glint of mirth in his blue eyes. Zea shook his head at him, his own eyes now glassy with tears. This hurt so much more then it should.

"I can't! I'm not you America- I didn't have a revolution. I still have to do as I'm told..." He was the good son, the obedient son that was level headed and cheerful to balance out Australia's reckless, careless wild personality.

"But...don't you want to know how it feels to wield this one last time...?" The question was a quiet one laced with sad understanding. "What about Aus? He is older then you, doesn't he miss this?"

He did, Zea knew he did. What he wouldn't give to see his brothers face light up as he held his own Boomerangs for the first time in what felt like hundreds of years...

"I...he...Dad would-

Alfred groaned and with one super strength filled pull, he ripped the spear like weapon away from the Kiwi and held it up triumphantly.

"Hey!"

Please be careful, that is so very precious to me...

"Ha! I thought you said you were 'the best' at using this shitty toothpick of a hatchet!?" He taunted with a grin. "Can't be that great if I can take it! Come on, show me what you got!" The Yankee then threw it back to the young Colony who caught it with ease, spinning it expertly in his hand before falling into a simple fighting stance.

God that felt so natural. So good!

Perhaps...just one bout of training in the yard surely couldn't hurt...right? England was gone... Australia would love it...

Australia would _love_ it.

Straightening up the Kiwi gave a slow, calculating sigh as America plunged his big hands into the large crate to produce the discarded Boomerangs, his face alight with mischief and something more...

Determination?

New Zealand ran his hand down his Paiaka lovingly "...ok, but only for a little bit..."

The 'whoop' of happiness America gave in reply was deafening and before the brunette could react he was running past him and shouting over his broad shoulder on his way out of the office.

"I'll go get Australia! Meet you outside! Whoooo!"

He was like a child sometimes, it was refreshing. But why America was so determined to make this happen was beyond the sheep lover's comprehension.

Zea smiled, his grip on his weapon tightening as he too turned to follow the Yankee, deep down his gut was twisted with guilty disobedience. England's wrath would be heavy and vengeful for this betrayal.

But who cared, right now he felt happy. Like he had found a piece of himself that had been missing...

He hoped Aus felt the same way.

...

More Kirkland family stuff! Part 1/2!

I hope you like it so far!


	2. Chapter 2

BANG.

"I SAID NO WILLIAM!"

Australia's head snapped up at the loud, upstairs outburst. England? Why on earth was England yelling at someone who wasn't him?! And New Zealand no less, what a strange turn of evens for such a dull Saturday morning!

William was the golden Colony, the good child- he never got in trouble. Never!

What in the wide world had he done to upset their Dad and cause such an outrage? He must have really pissed the uptight Pom off, that made the young teenage brunette grin a little, delighted in any grievance that would shake up the Englishman. A little chaos was fun!

The Aussie was quick to get back to folding and pressing the laundry as heavy, angry sounding boots were suddenly heard making their way quickly down the old staircase above and out the front door with a loud bang. Wow, he was really mad...

I wonder why?

Jett paused mid fold of Canada's clean brown pants and cocked his head sidewards to listen carefully for any kind of responses from above. It was silent. What on earth had happened?

When nothing transpired for a very long minute, curiosity started eating away at him and it took all his willpower not to abandon his chores and go upstairs and investigate. Gritting his teeth and steeling his willpower, he chose not to. Besides, he did promise Matthew he would try to be better behaved from now on- so that meant doing as he was told...for once. So that meant doing his chores, that meant folding laundry.

Shaking his head to dismiss his curious desires, the young wild Colony got back to work on the stubborn clothes pile before him, not taking notice of the new pair of boots heading down that old hallway and coming his way with much excited speed...

...

Focusing on his current task, Australia didn't even notice the presence of the tall Yankee until Alfred was placing both of his hands on his shorter shoulders from behind and pulling him sharply backwards into a loving bear hug.

Giving a surprised 'yelp', the Aussie flailed slightly in the tight hold, dropping the clothes to the floor in his sudden confusion.

"Hey dude!" The American was beaming down from above him, his bright blue eyes twinkling with excitement and joy as his hug tightened. Relaxing into the strange embrace, the shorter brunette tilted his head and grinned back with matching enthusiasm.

"G'day America, crikey you scared me!" Wriggling free from the steel like hold, Jett stooped down to pick up the dropped material before throwing it back onto the messy, unfolded pile. "What brings you to my cosy corner of the world mate?" He added, stretching his arms out to indicate the tiny inclosed space of the laundry room. "Come to help?" He inquired with a hopeful look. America laughed, rolling his eyes.

"As if dude! I came to see you, not to do stupid laundry!" Alfred paused, scratching his head and grinning. "Ok, technically I came to see England and discuss our standings...and that didn't really work out, but still."

Aus raised an inquisitive eyebrow as he grabbed a new shirt and continued folding before he asked casually. "Is that why he was yelling earlier? He sounded really mad...what did you and Zea do?"

The idea that Alfred had planned or done something with his younger brother and had not invited him along sent an unfamiliar pain to his heart. He just brushed it away as too much hard work, right? Chores were hard...

"Oh!" Alfred snapped his fingers as if remembering something important before he pulled the duel Boomerangs that sat snuggly in the back of his leather belt. Producing them easily he held them up in front of the Aussie- he grinned. "Zea and I are putting together a training fight! I thought you might want these! You recognise them?"

Australia's eyes widened at the sight before him, the clothing in his hands dropping from his grasp once again; all but forgotten to the floor as trembling fingers came to cover his gasping, surprise warped mouth.

Oh my god, could it really be?!

"...no way..." Taking the smallest of steps forward, Jett's shaking hands reached towards the offered weapons. His fingers brushed over their smooth, decorated wood uncertainly before he took a deep breath- finally regained some of his shattered composure and snatched them up with a now excited grin. "NO BLOODY WAY! My Boomerangs!? Crikey where the hell did ya get these from!?"

He was holding them up in the sunlight near the small window, his wide, joy crinkled eyes scanning over every inch of the long lost wooden objects. Relishing in every long forgotten memory each tiny mark or pattern dragged back to him. He had forgotten so much under England's rule and seeing this sparked a light inside of him he didn't know had been snuffed out so long ago. It was beautiful.

It was amazing, perfect...he was so indescribably happy...

God he felt like crying, his hands were trembling and his vision was becoming increasingly blurry. It had been so very long since he had laid eyes on something that was truly his own, something that belonged to him and his culture. He thought they had been lost forever!

His Boomerangs...

He had made them himself, trained with them- hunted and killed with them... He had thought them lost forever when he had been forced to leave his home, but it would appear now, just like always, they have returned to him. Just like a Boomerang should.

He must have looked like quite the sight because America's joyous grin had since fallen to that of worry and concern, he reached out uncertainly towards the young man before him.

"Are you ok dude? Y-you're crying.."

Was he? It appeared he was, tears were flowing down his cheeks freely and his lips were trembling around his smile as he lowered his weapons and looked in America's blurry direction. His wondrous expression both melted and warmed the Yankee's soft heart, it was so pure with longing and happiness.

"C-cheers mate, I mean it- thank you...this...this means a lot to me."

So much, this was everything to me...

Alfred smiled at the young Colony, his heart was soaring at the sight, filling with happiness and empathy, he knew how hard it was too loss a part of yourself, your culture. He was just glad Aus had found it again before it was too late.

"No problem dude! I jus- mmpphh!"

He was cut off as Jett threw his arms around his toned middle and hugged him close, burying his tear soaked cheeks into his broad chest and whispering something in a language the Yankee could not understand. It was so bizarre to see the 18 year old act this way, normally he was just so reckless and cheerful- brave! Clearly this meant a lot to the young Aussie.

America wasted no time returning the hug, wrapping his arms around those shaking shoulders tightly and resting his cheek atop those soft brown locks, shutting his eyes he whispered the softest words of love and support he could think of. He could relate to this feeling more then they knew and while his own culture may be mere shattered remanence of a distant past, their culture might still be saved. Preserved. And he would do anything to save it for Alfred could think of nothing worse then that deep dark hole of emptiness that he had to deal with for the rest of his unnatural life...

They stand entwined together lovingly for a few long, comfortable moments until America pulled away and was grinning down at the teen once again, Aus's grip on his weapons tightened, eyes twinkling in return.

"Come on dude, New Zealand is waiting for us!"

Jett grinned back, sniffling and wiping away any evidence of shed tears. "Too right! I'm gonna go kick his sheep loving ass!" His voice, while still thick with emotion, was excited and cheerful with anticipation once again. That spark had ignited something deep and joyous inside them both.

America's heart filled with just such joy, there was the Australia he knew and loved!

"Let's go!"

Needless to say, his chores were left forgotten...

Sorry Canada.

...

"I just do not understand! They do not need to fight! They have no use for their old weapons!- Thankyou." England complained openly, nodding as he accepted the hot cup of tea handed to him carefully. He blew on its contents, sending soft bouts of steam swirling into the air before he took the smallest of sips, tasting the hot liquid and judging it satisfactory he continued. "They are MY Colonies for goodness sake, MY children! Why do they hold so tightly onto things that no longer matter!?" His face was displeased once again as he sipped on his tea, watching as his patient host sat down on the couch across from him with a drink of his own. Taking in the Englishman's complaints with every last bit of his undivided attention.

France sipped on his tea as he took in Arthur's blights, his handsome features creased in contemplation while he listened with an open mind. He found it all quite humorous really, for a number of reasons. First, it never ceases to amaze the Frenchman how quickly England would always run to him with his problems, wanting support and love despite how much the blond claims that he can not stand to be involved with such a 'bloody frog bastard' and with little to no thought that 'perhaps France is a little busy right now'. The supportive company he apparently gave off to the British Empire or rather the support the British Empire found while in his company was sweet...in a weird, twisted kind of way, though he would never tell England that. Secondly, it was just so interesting to watch Arthur struggle so deeply with what should be so incredibly obvious to any other Nation, or father.

"Why would they want this!? I just don't understand, I fight for them, I clothe and feed them! Why would they want those things back!?" England finished his rant with a huff, his eyes flickered to the Frenchman's face for a solution and he waited. France tapped his chin as he contemplated his answer, he would be honest of course- but he had to be tactful, Arthur had a temper.

"...Do you you love them?" He finally asked back calmly, sipping lightly at his tea, his eyes fluttering closed as the delicious warmth made its way down his throat.

Arthur was slightly taken aback by the strange question, he suddenly found himself taking far too long to reply- he knew there should be an instant response to that so he felt a little guilty for taking his time. What kind of ridiculous question is that anyway!?

"They are my sons' of course I love them- more then anything..." He responded evenly, his green eyes falling to stare at the hot brown liquid in his cup. He did, they were his precious little Colonies, his naughty, disobedient, always dirty boys' whom he could never stop loving. "I...what kind of bloody question is that anyway?!" He snapped, his heart was beating a little faster for some strange reason, were his cheeks really as hot as they felt!?

Francis sighed heavily. "Ok, perhaps I have asked you the wrong question mon ami. Do they love you?"

What?

Did they? For a long time they did not, who could love the monster that stole you away from your home, ignored your culture and took over your land!? No one.

But surly things have changed over their long, close relationship together. Yes. They were a family now- heck, Australia was almost independent!

"I...well I..." The Empire took in a steady breath to steel his surprisingly shaken nerves. "I believe they do. Yes, we love and support each other like any family should." He felt hollow despite his words. It was no lie it had been hard to begin with, partially with Aus- but a relationship that started off as rough, angry and borderline violent had since blossomed into something deep and meaningful. England could admit that rough start was his own fault, he had been bitter, cold and in no such state to be raising anyone when he had discovered Jett; and Australia was only a small lad, confused and scared of the mighty British Empire that seemed incapable of any kind feelings, let alone loving him back.

But that was the past, things were better now. Right?

Since then he had taught them, bathed them, clothed them and tucked them into bed with a wondrous story and a kiss on the forehead...things had changed...

France nodded in understanding, recrossing his legs gracefully and sipping his tea. "If there is love, then there must be trust, no? You do trust them...?"

"I do..." This time England's response was automatic, he did trust them- with his life if ever it had to be entrusted to anyone. "I'm just...afraid...is that so bloody wrong?" He questioned, face pained and tired as the blond searched his tea cup desperately for answers, his chest felt unbearably tight and he could hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears. France shook his head with a sad supportive smile, a smile that told England he understood.

Of course he understood, he had been a a loving father to Canada for many many years in the past...

"Why are you so afraid, mon ami?" Francis inquired slowly, his voice was soft for he knew he was treading on the thinnest of ice with his next statement. "Does your fear grip so tightly that you would rip away a part of who they are and replace it with something fake- artificial? You would rather see your children stay and suffer by your side then blossom and leave you for a way of life that would make them happy?"

He was referring to the past- to America, they both knew. It was no secret that England still felt that betrayal deeply in his soul and it was obvious at the time he would never let anyone hurt him in such a deep way again; he had built up walls of protection and steeled the guard around his heart so he might stay safe, even if that meant he would hurt everyone else around him, push them away. But New Zealand and Australia had some how destroyed his tight defences and over the course of many years had wormed their way deep into his icy heart- warming it so he might grow to love them and that was what was so terrifying. To loose them to their own savage desires would surly undo him. He just could not bare the thought of another revolution...

Giving so much love and scrubbing away so much of America's culture burnt him once in the past and he swore he would never again allow it to destroy him a second time...

But he had shown love...he had destroyed culture...was he really repeating his own stupid mistakes!?

The bloody frog had a point- much to England's displeasure. "I...no! It's not the same!" Arthur defended angrily, his grip on the fine china tightening dangerously and for a brief moment the Frenchman was sure it would shatter. "We are talking about weapons here! Useless, savage bloody weapons!"

"Exactly!" France shot back from over his tea, his tone sharp and laced with emotional exhaustion. "Savage or not Arthur, it's who they are. Would you so easily give up _your_ own magic if someone else demanded it?! What about all of _your_ knowledge on who _you_ are?, _your_ language?, what about _your_ beliefs?- laws?, land!?"

"I-" England was slightly taken aback by the Frenchman's serious tone, Francis was not one to anger easily, this must strike a nerve...

"No, you wouldn't!" France answered for him as he placed his teacup down gently on the table beside him. "Because they are _yours_! These boy's have let you cage them all their lives because they trust you with all their little hearts! Now, you need to trust them back enough to believe they won't leave you over a few knives and pointy sticks. But honestly, if they did I won't blame them..."

Arthur's mouth hung open slightly at the out of character outburst of emotion and his first instinct wast to shout- rant and rave in his own defence. But he just couldn't seem to do it, he couldn't bring himself to yell or scream- or even frown with that famous temper of his. Because it wasn't there, because it was all true...

Wow...

France continued, his heated voice dying to a soft, angry whisper. "They're at home right now getting love and support from a man who cherishes his freedom and rebelled to get it, instead of you- their own Father who is supposed to love them no matter what- weapons or no." He sighed at the sad and defeated look on England's face before leaning forward to place a supportive hand on the Brit's knee softly. "It's time to open the cage a little, Arthur. Let your little birds soar...I promise they won't fly away...and even if they do, it will be a beautiful sight to behold..."

Silence passed between them for a few very long moments as both males took in and digested what had just transpired between them. The air around them had turned heavy and sour with emotion and as France finally moved to remove his hand from his old friend, he was surprised to have it caught up and held tightly in British ones. Their fingers found each other easily as they laced themselves together with rare affection. England didn't smile but while his face was sad, his cheeks remain tinted the lightest of pink as he squeezed gratefully.

"Thanks...you frog..."

Squeezing back, France whispered. "Anytime mon ami..."

...

I just had to wrap this story up, or it would have never gotten finished!

So this story kind of turned into an 'England battles his inner demons' fic, oops! I've had so little time to write lately and I will have even less time in the future so I hope this little fic is satisfactory. :)

Thanks for reading guys :)


	3. Bonus

BONUS!

Oh this is not going to end well! Someone was going to get hurt, very badly hurt indeed! He could feel it! One of these reckless young Colonies would loose an eye or a leg and he was going to be the one in trouble for it! He was in charge when England was away after all...

Oh no...

Zea's long reaching Paiaka slashed the air with deadly precision and grace; causing Aus to duck and roll in order to avoid having his chest spilt open completely by its sharp axe-like blade. Breathing heavily the young Skippy recovered from the tight roll and with a wide swing of his arm and an expert flick of his wrist he send one of his Boomerangs hurtling into the air and out of sight. He brought up his second just in time to guard against New Zealand's second forceful slash- causing their weapons to collide harshly, sharp bladed stone against solid, fortified wood. They held that tight stance for a few long seconds, both males putting all their strength into fighting the other backwards- both their breathing coming out heavily, sweat dripping from both of their messy brown hair.

They had been fighting for just over half an hour now, going in hard and fast with a burning determination to beat each other to a bloody pulp! And so far, they had been quite successful- landing decent blows on one another with each new bout of combat. But while Aus sported deep, bloody gashes and Zea ripped, bruised flesh all over their bodies- they continued to fight onwards with pure joyful adrenaline! This was what they had missed, what they loved! The pain of each wound only making them feel more alive then before, spurring them to fight on!

"Give it up Aus, you're outmatched!" Zea panted through clenched teeth as he pushed against the enemy weapon with all his might, forcing his older brother's knees to buckle slightly. Aus grinned, his teeth a bright white against his muddy, tribal marked face. William was right, Aus had been longer separated from his weapons then his younger brother and as a result he was much more out of practise, but if he cared it was not obvious.

"True!" He replied honestly before his mischievous green eyes suddenly focused on something over Zea's shoulder. "But you're outnumbered!"

The sharp, low whistle of the encroaching boomerang as it sliced through the air on its returning trajectory could be heard clearly now and with eyes wide with realisation New Zealand kicked Australia away; he spun around in time to block the incoming rouge flying weapon before it could make contact and do any damage. The impact it made against the Paiaka's blade was deafening as it collided at full speed and was thrown off target, landing on the ground a few metres away. That was close, bloody sneaky bastard!

Spinning back to the fight, New Zealand was surprised to find his brother already skilfully diving to retrieve the fallen weapon. Thinking quickly the curly haired Colony ran after him, twirling the Paiaka's spear like body expertly and bringing the axe down harshly upon the Skippy as he retrieved his second Boomerang. Unsurprisingly, he was met with resistance as those double wooden weapons came up to meet his attack head on and block against his would be killer blow.

"Ahhh come on Zea!" Jett taunted from below him with heavy breath. "You gotta try harder then that mate!"

With a forceful push, one containing immense strength the likes New Zealand had never seen from his brother before, Australia forced him back and stood up into a new stance. Zea grinned.

"You might be stronger then me bro, but I'm still faster! Let's see how you fair when I'm kicking your ass up close!" The sheep loving Colony rushed forward and their weapons colluded once more, the sickening sound of combat starting up once again...

Yep, someone was going to loose an eye...

"Be careful!" Canada called anxiously from his position at the sidelines of America's makeshift arena in the Brit's backyard. He had a hand twisted into his apron nervously as he watched both Colonies clash violently against one another with close weapon combat- the traditional tribal markings that adorned their bare flesh with makeshift ink (honestly he didn't want to know what they had used to make such outlandish colours) running and mixing with their hard earned sweat and blood.

"Oh no...this is such a bad idea..." The young Canadian was almost covering his concerned eyes now at the outrageous sceptical violently unfolding before him and he had to keep telling himself this was not 'real.'

It looked real... Disturbingly so. Their actions and movements with their weapons were so natural and fluent looking, their young bodies were bloody, naked and brightly marked- faces warped into sweaty expressions of brutality as they slashed and hacked at each other close up. Their eyes held untold fury and adrenalin fuelled excitement. The were dangerous...

They were savages...

Suddenly Matthew understood why England was so worried about granting this small freedom, the slope from civilised to savage was indeed a slippery one...

And he was scared for them...scared they might loose themselves to this primal desire...

The large, pale hand of his brother fell onto his shoulder supportively, successfully making Canada feel 100% worse about this terrible, terrible idea.

"It's ok Matty, just let them do this..." Alfred's voice was firm and understanding of his brother's conflicting, anxious feeling. Canada cast his gaze to Alfred, he was watching the fight ahead with a distant expression; as if caught inside a memory but fighting to stay in the present.

"They need this...don't take this away..." America added softly, more to himself really, and in that moment Canada realised that perhaps this ran far deeper emotionally for the big Hero then they had all realised.

Yes, Australia and New Zealand _wanted_ this. They wanted to fight and feel that primal, wonderful rush from the simplistic past- they wanted to relish in their own Culture and feel whole one last time.

But America _needed_ this, he needed to feel that rush for himself- even if it is only secondhand. Alfred had lost a lot of who he once was and Matt could think of nothing worse then living with that empty, black void in your soul for the rest of you life...

He smiled softly at his American brother, leaning in slighting to rest against him lovingly- supportively. He understood.

Alfred turned in surprise to Mathew but smiled back when he realised his brothers intentions; the sound of combat forgotten and out of sight. They shared a gaze of brotherly love and mutual respect- no pity or resentment for the past. It was warm and comfortable...

The shattering sound of weapons rang threw the yard...

Oh no...

"AHHHH! BLOODY HELL! MY EYE!"

He knew this would happen...

...

You guys wanted a little extra, hope this ok :D


End file.
